


too innocent

by orphan_account



Series: Fight Club AU [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Multi, warnings for drugs and alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Kissed by the Asphalt. Adam wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Ronan and Kavinsky parked outside. </p><p>“Least I can do for the man that’s been leading Lynch around by his dick. Thanks for making him so fucking easy for it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenJeanKirstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenJeanKirstein/gifts).



> Takes place during The Dream Thieves. 
> 
> Warnings for:  
> \- violence (not super graphic, but plenty of blood mentions)  
> \- drugs and alcohol  
> \- angry sex

Somewhere out in the distance, tires screeched. Adam, already a fitful sleeper, startled awake. His heart was racing. This happened most nights, so he didn’t think much of it. 

He got up and poured himself a glass of lukewarm water from his tap, which never ran cold. He clambered back into bed, willing his heart rate to decrease.

Outside the window across the room, he thought he saw headlights, but thought better of it. Henrietta was dead at this time of night, and St. Agnes rarely got visitors even in the light of day.

He shut his eyes and pulled his thin blanket over his face. A thin layer of sweat was beading on his chest. The room was oppressively hot without air conditioning, but Adam had never accustomed himself to sleeping without a blanket.

He thought that under better circumstances, this might make for an amusing joke. Adam, who had lived with an abusive father and who had faced Cabeswater and who had a dead best friend, was afraid to sleep without a blanket. He wasn’t scared of monsters, but there was something eerie about sleeping blanketless, defenceless.

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it across the room, leaving his thin sweatpants on, and shut his eyes again, chasing sleep. It eluded him again. He’d been having this problem for weeks. Insomnia, it seemed, was a side effect of selling your soul to a magical forest. 

Headlights flashed again. This time, Adam was sure he’d seen them. He crossed the tiny room to look out the window, making a mental note to borrow some cleaning supplies from Gansey to take care of the window’s overall filthiness. Dirt and dust crept across the window pane. He ran a single finger across the glass, leaving a clean streak on the otherwise disgusting window. If he were younger, he’d write “Adam was here,” but he’d since grown out of that. Now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave his mark anywhere. 

He had to blink a few times before his vision properly adjusted and he was able to see past the dirty frame. Looking farther out, he noticed the Pig parked in the St. Agnes parking lot and wondered idly if Gansey had come to pay him a midnight visit. The headlights were off in the car, but the inner light was on, and Adam noticed movement from inside.

Suddenly he noticed the car parked across from the Pig, Kavinsky’s moon-white Mitsubishi. It was stationary, but its headlights were on. The driver’s side door was flung wide open, reminding Adam of a crime scene. Something about the Mitsubishi, about Kavinsky’s implied presence, made Adam’s skin prickle and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

There were no good reasons for Kavinsky to be meeting Gansey in the middle of the night. Adam envisioned Gansey being chased down and attacked by Kavinsky, and something in his chest seemed to freeze over. 

Without another thought, Adam raced downstairs and outside, running over to the Pig and throwing the passenger door open, ready to haul Kavinsky out and maybe hit him, if he was feeling up to it.

Instead, he came face-to-face with a very bruised and surprised looking Ronan.

“Hey man,” Kavinsky said, from the driver’s seat. He didn’t look taken aback, just pleased, like he’d just succeeded in doing something Kavinsky-like and despicable. “Where’d you come from?”

Ronan still looked shaken. More than that, he almost looked ashamed, as though this- whatever this was- was something he wanted to hide from Ronan. This in itself was strange. Ronan was usually unapologetic about everything.

“Nice of you to join us,” Kavinsky said, still wearing his grin, which somehow managed to be both condescending and smug. His teeth were very white. “Interesting wardrobe choice, I must say.”

Adam suddenly became very aware that he was not wearing a shirt. Kavinsky ran his eyes up Adam’s chest, unabashedly sizing him up, probably for a fight. Ronan, on the other hand, averted his eyes.

Adam ignored Kavinsky’s comment and turned his attention back to Ronan, who had collected himself and now looked impassive. “Are you okay?”

Ronan nodded, looking from Kavinsky to Adam with wide, somewhat bloodshot eyes. 

“Lynch put up a good fight,” Kavinsky said, slapping Ronan on the shoulder with enough force that the car shook. Adam flinched; Ronan’s face remained stoic. “Although he plays dirty.” He leered at Ronan. Something protective surged in Adam’s stomach.

Adam bent down to peer deeper into the car, noting the bruises and assorted purple marks on both boys. “You stole the Pig. Again.”

Ronan nodded slowly, as if it required a lot of effort.

“And you were fighting. Again.”

Ronan looked up at Adam coolly, daring him to say something. 

“Get out of the car, Ronan. Go sleep it off upstairs.” 

“Upstairs?” Kavinsky asked, gleeful. “You live here, Parrish?”

Adam ignored him again. “Ronan. You’re better than this idiot. Go.”

Kavinsky laughed. “This is fucked up, Lynch, even for you.” His eyes were dark and cruel in the yellow car light. He turned to Adam. “Hey, shitface. Does your house- if I can even call it that- have a window?”

Confused, Adam looked automatically at the window in question and wiped his dusty hand on his sweatpants. Kavinsky seemed to glean the answer from this.

“He has a fucking window!” Kavinsky exclaimed. He lowered his voice in a mock whisper as he addressed Ronan. “I wonder if he watched. Did you imagine him watching?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kavinsky,” Ronan growled. Anyone else would have backed off from the sheer venom in Ronan’s voice, but Kavinsky simply smirked.    


“Fucking Lynch. Jesus.” Kavinsky fished in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a lighter, which he used to light a joint. He inhaled deeply, then turned and blew the smoke right in Ronan’s face. Ronan coughed, then spit on Kavinsky, looking vicious. 

“You liked that about, oh, twenty minutes ago. Couldn’t get enough,” Kavinsky said, fiddling with the lighter. “Ah, fuck it, it could’ve been days ago. You ever get so high you lose track of time?”

Adam was beginning to get the impression that he’d walked into something even darker than he’d originally expected. “I don’t care if you’re bonding over drugs or whatever. Ronan, get the fuck out of the car. Go upstairs. I’ll clean this up.” He gestured at the two cars. Gansey wouldn’t be pleased that Ronan had stolen the Pig again, but he’d be more receptive if it was Adam breaking the news.

“How neat, man, you’ve got yourself your very own Prokopenko,” Kavinsky said, taking another drag.

“I kicked your ass tonight and I can do it again,” Ronan said.

Kavinsky looked at him through lazy, half-open eyes. The shadows on his face made him look less than human. “Call it foreplay.”

Ronan looked murderous. “If you-”

“Tell Adam that you came in your pants like a fucking teenager?” Kavinsky laughed cruelly. “What are you gonna do, lie about it and say you didn’t?”

Adam took a step back involuntarily, willing himself not to react. 

Ronan raised his middle finger at Kavinsky but did not deny the accusation.

Kavinsky noticed both movements and looked victorious. “Aw, man, what fun.” He extended his arm across Ronan, waving the joint at Adam. “Least I can do for the man that’s been leading Lynch around by his dick. Thanks for making him so fucking easy for it.”

Ronan winced at that and looked at his knees. “Leave Adam out of this,” he said, his voice icy. His tone suggested that he thought Adam didn’t belong here, that he didn’t think Adam could hold his own with Kavinsky. Adam could feel his heartbeat in his chest. He felt dangerous. 

Kavinsky looked at Adam, still holding his hand out. He looked bored. “No? Well, I suppose you’re too innocent.” He was goading him, but somehow Adam didn’t care.

Ronan looked threateningly at Adam, a warning in his eyes. Adam ignored him, sick of playing the responsible adult, and accepted Kavinsky’s offering. Ronan’s eyes widened as Adam exhaled smoke. 

“I didn’t know you could-”

“Quit underestimating me,” Adam snapped. “I’m going back to bed. Are you coming?”

Kavinsky made a lewd joke about this under his breath. 

Ronan didn’t move. He looked torn. 

Without another word, Adam turned on his heel and stalked back up to his tiny room. Something was simmering inside him. Ronan had come here, to the one place Adam had for himself, and he’d brought Kavinsky. He’d let Kavinsky sit in the driver’s seat of Gansey’s car. He’d sat there, in the Pig, and done- well, Adam didn’t want to think about what he’d done. His chest tightened when he envisioned it.

Once up the stairs, he slammed the door and lingered for a second at the deadbolt, thinking. Finally, he decided not to lock it, just in case Ronan needed a place to stay. It was the decent thing to do, he thought, although he doubted Ronan would take him up on his offer. 

His skin felt itchy from the hot night and from interacting with Kavinsky. He said a curse under his breath, all illusions of getting a good night’s sleep completely vanishing, and headed into the shower. 

When he emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, Ronan and Kavinsky were sitting on his bed. 


	2. Chapter 2

Every time Ronan had visited Adam’s room, Adam had been struck by how little Ronan looked like he belonged there. Ronan seemed out of place in a run-down apartment, meant for somewhere bigger, more beautiful, like the Barns.

Adam had never expected to have Joseph Kavinsky in his room, so he didn’t look like he belonged either. But then again, Adam thought, Kavinsky didn’t seem to belong anywhere. 

Kavinsky was sitting with his dirty shoes propped up on Adam’s pillow. One of his legs had a fresh scab on it, which had opened up again and was dripping blood onto Adam’s bed. He gave Adam a once-over, looking bored. 

Adam’s first thought was that he was glad he was wearing a shirt this time, even if it was a flimsy, torn-up number he’d had for years. 

Before Adam could speak, Ronan said quickly, “I didn’t mean for him to come. He just did.”

Adam wasn’t clear if this was talking about driving, or sex, or being in Adam’s room.

“I’m sorry,” Ronan said, looking at his lap. 

Adam could count on one hand the number of times Ronan had apologized without being prompted to do so. This was a new kind of offense; Ronan had brought a stranger into Adam’s home, the one place he had all for himself. He wondered if Ronan understood the gravity of the situation. 

He certainly looked sorry, but he was also staring at his folded hands on his lap as if they were magical, so Adam couldn’t be sure what was real and what was the effect of drugs.

Kavinsky gave a fake, ugly cough from where he was sitting, leaving mud and dried blood on Adam’s sheets. “Forgotten about me?”

“I wish,” muttered Adam, drying his hair with a towel and hanging it up on a hook by the bathroom door. “Why are you in my room?”

“Lynch didn’t lock the door,” Kavinsky said, feigning disinterest.

“That explains how, not why.” 

Kavinsky smiled. It looked like he was baring his teeth, an animal ready to pounce. “Dear old Lynch here hurt something of mine, so I’m going to hurt something of his.”

Ronan flashed an angry look at Kavinsky. “What are you talking about, K?”

Adam caught the use of the nickname and the protective feeling in his stomach returned.

“Like I said earlier,” Kavinsky replied, his voice cool, “you’ve got your very own Prokopenko here.” 

Adam folded his arms. “I take offense to that. I don’t belong to anybody.” 

Kavinsky carried on as if Adam hadn’t spoken. “And since you fucked up Proko’s face, I thought I’d do the same to Adam’s. Quid pro quo and all that.” He laughed. “Look at me, busting out some Latin.” 

The neatly controlled expression on Ronan’s face slipped for a second. He recomposed his countenance quickly, but both Kavinsky and Adam had seen it. 

“You hit Prokopenko?” Adam asked.

Ronan nodded and extended his hands, displaying his bandaged knuckles.

Kavinsky addressed his next words to Adam. “We both know I could chase you down if you tried to run. My car’s faster than yours. Save me the headache and come here.” 

Adam considered this. He didn’t like his chances. He hadn’t been trained in martial arts like Ronan had. Winning a fight with Kavinsky was unlikely on a good day; winning a fight with an extra-angry, potentially coked-up Kavinsky was impossible. 

Ronan had risen out of his seat and turned to Kavinsky, looking murderous. “I’ll kill you if you touch him,” he said, and Adam knew he meant it. 

Something, some dark power play, was taking place between Kavinsky and Ronan, and Adam was caught in the crosshairs. He bristled at the idea of letting Ronan fight another one of his battles for him. He crossed the room obediently and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing Kavinsky. 

Kavinsky looked at Adam. “Just one punch,” he said, almost soothingly.

Adam nodded. 

Kavinsky hit the soft part of Adam’s cheek. It stung for only a second. Kavinsky was only doing this to manipulate Ronan, Adam realized. He didn’t particularly care about hurting Adam, but he also didn’t feel a need to save him. 

Kavinsky’s fist lingered against Adam’s skin, his eyes trained on Adam’s mouth. He uncurled his palm and traced Adam’s lip.

From the other side of the room, Ronan made a sound like a hiss.

Adam locked eyes with Ronan and sucked Kavinsky’s thumb into his mouth. 

Ronan’s face cycled through emotions quickly. Shock turned into fear which turned into an expression Adam had seen before but could not quite identify. Finally his face settled on anger.

Even Kavinsky looked surprised, a reaction that Adam found profoundly satisfying.

“I  _ said _ not to underestimate me,” Adam said to no one in particular.

Kavinsky gave him a crooked grin, finally understanding. “Pretty boy wants to act out,” he said.

Adam wondered, idly, when his nickname had changed from “shitface” to “pretty boy,” but he didn’t comment on it. 

He looked up at Kavinsky through his eyelashes as he sucked on his finger again. Kavinsky looked positively cheerful at this new development. 

Adam would’ve felt bad about using Kavinsky in this way if it weren’t for the fact that Kavinsky loved to be involved in distasteful situations. As if to illustrate the point, Kavinsky pushed Adam up against the headboard and kissed his collarbone, deepening it into a bite.

Adam looked up and made eye contact with Ronan again. He was still standing near the bed, looking conflicted, as though he was trying to decide whether or not to run away. 

“Don’t act so fucking scandalized,” Adam said, Kavinsky nipping at his neck. 

Kavinsky kissed Adam, hard. He tasted like smoke and booze and bad decisions. If Adam closed his eyes tight enough, he could forget who he was kissing. 

“Lynch,” Kavinsky called, pulling back from Adam. “I’m going to defile your friend here.”

“I have a name,” Adam said with feigned irritation. He didn’t much care what Kavinsky called him. What Kavinsky thought of him didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was proving that he, Adam, wasn’t spineless. 

“I’m going to defile Adam,” Kavinsky corrected, fingers now working at the hem of Adam’s shirt. “Lynch, you motherfucker. Are you going to join us or just stand there like an idiot?”

Adam’s back dug into the headboard as Kavinsky pushed into him, straddling Adam’s legs and grinding against him. From over Kavinsky’s shoulder, Adam could see Ronan staring.

Ronan’s eyes darkened as he caught Adam’s gaze and he looked at the ground. Adam wondered what was running through Ronan’s head, if the softer, kinder side of Ronan was at war with this harsh Ronan who liked to pick fights. 

After several moments, his head snapped up. He had evidently made a decision. “I’m not leaving.” He crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to the two of them.

Adam attempted to keep his expression unaffected. He was having trouble breathing.

Kavinsky remained where he was on Adam’s lap and pulled Adam back into another series of kisses, harsher and more aggressive than before. Adam was hyper aware of Ronan’s presence next to him.

Finally Kavinsky switched to kissing Ronan, shifting off Adam onto Ronan. Ronan stripped Kavinsky’s shirt off quickly. His hands found their way down Kavinsky’s back and dug in, his fingers leaving little divots against Kavinsky’s body. Bruises stretched down one of Kavinsky’s sides, but he didn’t seem to notice or care as Ronan traced his fingers along them. His nails left little pink scratches behind in their wake. Adam watched as they kissed, something burning building in his stomach. He felt out of control. 

“Enough!” he said. The two pulled apart. Kavinsky looked irritated and opened his mouth to speak, but Adam cut him off. He started to speak before he’d planned out the words he would say. “You two already got off. Ronan, kiss me instead.”

Ronan shook his head violently. “No fucking way.”

“Why not?” Adam asked. He could feel every heartbeat pounding in his chest as he waited for Ronan to reply.

Ronan didn’t answer right away. He folded his arms and avoided Adam’s eyes before finally saying, “Kissing’s too personal. We’re not on that level.” 

This made something in Adam’s chest hurt, but he didn’t protest.

Kavinsky’s laugh filled the room. “Fine, Lynch, have it your way. You can blow him instead.” 

At this, Adam stopped breathing altogether.

Ronan raised an eyebrow at Adam, wordlessly asking permission. Adam nodded, giving it. 

Kavinsky put his hands on Adam’s shoulders and knocked him onto his back. He slid his palm under Adam’s neck to ease the fall. Adam’s old bed creaked.  Kavinsky arranged himself to Adam’s side and looked pointedly at Ronan, who was crouched by Adam’s legs. “Get a move on,” he said. 

Ronan flushed. The tips of his ears were pink. He made to touch the waistband of Adam’s pants, looking at him with trepidation.

Adam put his palm on the top of Ronan’s. Ronan hand froze immediately. “Ronan,” Adam said, “if you don’t want to, you don’t-”

“Of course I do,” Ronan said, cutting him off almost angrily. 

Suddenly Kavinsky was kissing him and Ronan’s hand had crept under his waistband. The latter, Adam found, was much more distracting. 

Kavinsky bit down on Adam’s lip and Adam let out a little gasp. His embarrassment at being the center of attention had waned a little. His body felt warm everywhere. Kavinsky traced his knuckles down Adam’s bare skin, and he shivered. Below him, Ronan had situated himself between Adam’s legs and had gotten his pants off.

Ronan stilled. Adam could sense his hesitation. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he slid down Adam’s boxers.  Adam desperately wished Kavinsky weren’t there so he could watch Ronan without interruption.

Then Ronan’s mouth was on Adam, his hands wrapped around Adam’s thighs. Adam’s mind went desperately, blissfully blank.

It was over too soon. Adam gasped into Kavinsky’s mouth, accidentally biting Kavinsky’s lip as his body shuddered to a halt. Kavinsky retaliated. Adam tasted blood.

Kavinsky stood up and crossed the room to smoke out the window. Ronan swallowed and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, avoiding Adam’s gaze again.

“Right,” Adam said, once he had recovered his breath. Whatever reckless fire had been burning in his stomach had dimmed. He no longer wanted anything to do with Kavinsky, with drugs, with danger. “It’s late.”

Kavinsky turned to glance at him. He was still shirtless and bruised and he looked a complete disaster in the semi-darkness of Adam’s room. One of his hands loosely held a cigarette.

Adam had hoped Kavinsky would catch the drift, but Kavinsky only stood there, staring, his eyes dark, not quite alive. 

Ronan picked up on Adam’s discomfort, as he always did. “Get the fuck out, Kavinsky,” Ronan said. Adam noted the disappearance of the nickname. Judging by the way Kavinsky’s eyes narrowed at Ronan’s words, he had noticed too. “Take your car this time.” 

Kavinsky seemed to be considering whether or not to fight Ronan. Ronan’s expression tightened, and he curled one fist into a ball at his side. 

“Whatever,” Kavinsky said, looking bored. “I’m done with this shit. You gave yourself away, by the way.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Your little schoolboy crush,” said Kavinsky. “What, you don’t think he knows?”

Ronan’s answering glare was deadly.  

“Blowing him but refusing to kiss him? God, what a fucking movie cliché. You bore me, Ronan Lynch,” Kavinsky said. “I expected better out of you. You were supposed to be interesting.” 

“Fuck you,” Ronan said. It sounded like  _ goodbye _ . 

Kavinsky flipped his middle finger at Ronan. “Until next time, you little bastard.” He left, leaving an uncomfortably charged room in his wake.

Adam felt like he’d just woken up from a very elaborate dream. “So,” he said. “That happened.” 

Ronan just looked at him.

“That happened,” Adam said again, when Ronan didn’t respond. “Is this something we should talk about?”

Ronan huffed. His face was still pink. “No.”

“I don’t think you should drive home,” Adam said. “You're still drunk or high or something. I'll call Gansey tomorrow and explain where the Pig went.” 

“Actually,” Ronan said, with a bitter laugh, “I am unpleasantly sober. I will unfortunately remember this in the morning.” He flushed deep red again.

“You could still stay,” Adam offered, knowing he was pushing his luck. 

Surprisingly, Ronan didn’t protest. He dug around in Adam’s dresser for a pair of pajama pants to replace his stained jeans and went to change in the bathroom. Adam wondered at this display of modesty- Ronan had just had his mouth around Adam’s dick, for god’s sake- but wisely kept quiet. 

When Ronan reemerged from the bathroom, Adam had made a nest for him on the floor out of extra blankets. He tossed him a pillow, and Ronan caught it neatly.  

“This is disgusting,” he remarked, pointing at the pillow. Kavinsky had put his shoes and bloody limbs on it.

“You can have mine, then,” Adam said, throwing him the other pillow. Ronan accepted it without comment and settled down on his makeshift bed. 

Once Adam turned the lights off and locked the door, the two fell into tense silence. Adam was nearly convinced that Ronan had drifted off to sleep when Ronan spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Ronan said again. 

“Don’t be.” 

Silence again. This time Adam spoke first. “You can sleep up here, if you want.” 

“I know,” said Ronan. His voice was choked. “I don’t think I should.” 

Adam’s heartbeat sped up again. He remembered Kavinsky's words - _schoolboy crush_. He took a deep breath before replying, “I’d like it if you did.”

Rustling on the floor next to him told him that Ronan had gotten up. He padded quietly over to the bed and climbed in, his body not touching Adam, but close enough that Adam could feel an added warmth. He felt extra alive, as though Ronan’s existence proved his own.  _ I am here. I exist. I matter. _

Adam’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see that Ronan was definitely not sleeping. His eyes were open, blankly staring at the ceiling. In the dim light coming from the window, his skin looked like it had been carved out of marble. 

Adam turned on his side to watch him better. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Processing,” Ronan said. “What are _ you  _ doing?” 

“I don’t know,” Adam admitted, sneaking an arm down to hold Ronan’s hand. Ronan’s hand was stiff, as though he didn’t trust himself to move it. After a few more minutes of silence, his palm relaxed and he wrapped his fingers around Adam’s. Adam could feel Ronan’s pulse through his fingertips. 

The hot summer air around them felt agitated. 

“Ronan,” Adam said, for the second time that night, “kiss me?” This time he phrased it as a question. 

Ronan was so still that he appeared to be anchored to the bed. Adam wondered, briefly, if he’d made the wrong decision in asking again. Then, slowly, Ronan raised himself up onto his side and pressed a soft kiss to Adam’s mouth. He tasted bitter, and Adam realized that he was tasting himself on Ronan’s lips. 

Adam deepened the kiss, wrapping a hand around the back of Ronan’s head and pulling him closer. Ronan was breathing hard when he pulled back. His eyes looked wild, but he wasn’t giving himself over to the kiss the way Adam had anticipated. Whenever Adam had imagined kissing Ronan, it had been passionate, searing, not at all like this short, reserved kiss. 

Adam leaned in again, frustrated. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

Ronan started. “I am,” he said, allowing a split second of vulnerability to cross his face. 

“You didn’t kiss Kavinsky like that,” Adam said petulantly. 

Ronan turned away from him, looking pained. “Kavinsky’s just a way to get off,” he said. “I don’t care if I use him. I don’t care about him, period.”

“Ronan,” Adam said, his voice catching in his throat, “is that your shitty way of saying that you care about me?”

Ronan took a long time to answer. “Don’t make fun of me now that you know,” he said finally. 

“I won’t,” Adam said, “as long as you don’t make fun of me for caring about you.” 

Ronan kissed him so quickly that Adam felt like his head was spinning. The anxious buzzing Adam had been feeling in his chest all night faded to a warm purr. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1\. I just finished the Foxhole Court books (All For the Game series). I hope that explains (if not excuses) the "I want to hit your friend because you hit mine" idea. 
> 
> 2\. There should've been more sex in this but then I decided that I care more about the dynamics between these characters than the actual fucking. I thought more sex would actually take away from that. Forgive me. 
> 
> 3\. You can think greenJeanKirstein for the moment where Adam sucks on Kavinsky's finger, as I shamelessly stole the idea from her fic Swan's Song. 
> 
> 4\. The fact that these guys can just sit around without changing after they, y'know, came in their pants is probably the most unbelievable thing about this story, but whatever. 
> 
> 5\. This was an interesting exercise in characterization. Adam clearly has the potential to lose control and make rash decisions, but he very rarely does so. It was fun to try to figure out what would push his buttons the most.
> 
> 6\. Ronan was using Kavinsky! Adam was using Kavinsky to prove something to Ronan! Kavinsky understands what's going on and naturally puts himself in the middle! It's all terrible! These dynamics are not things I actually ship, because I want these boys to have safe, healthy relationships. But again, it's interesting to write. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [vocative.](http://www.vocative.tumblr.com) I take prompts for fics and am always down to discuss headcanons!

**Author's Note:**

> I should be updating this with the next chapter in the next few days. 
> 
> A couple of things: 
> 
> 1\. How are Kavinsky’s teeth so white? I have no idea, but I like to imagine him using whitening strips, because that image is hilarious.  
> 2\. I've never smoked a joint before so I had to look that stuff up. I figured Kavinsky is too careless to have nice pieces, but the main gang (especially Noah and Blue and Adam!) probably has very fancy shit. Someone come discuss this with me!
> 
> You can thank greenJeanKirstein for giving me the idea to actually write this!


End file.
